


In Silence

by insanetics



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Human, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 03:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insanetics/pseuds/insanetics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer didn't expect the radio to switch itself on again, and what a surprise it was that it was his voice among all the rest in the world.  [Behold a Christmas gift, a drabble for a spectacular friend.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Silence

He heard it without delay, a startling, shaky calling of his name.

 _Funny. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been tuned in_. 

It’d been millennia since hearing the voices of his former brethren, or as it seemed now, the prayers from those below.. from the numerous _undeserving_.  _This voice, however— this one was different._  The call was as clear as those he remembered from before his fall, and it rang loud amongst the settled silence of his mind, the tone of it sending a peculiar, volatile chill through the nerve endings of his vessel. Sensing emergency, his shoulders gave one stiff roll before he disappeared, leaving a rabble of confused demons in his wake.

He appeared, instantly greeted by a heavy downpour of rain, surrounded by locked buildings darkened by the late hours of the night and shadowed by stray street lamps. It took little effort to spot him, his distraught soul shining through the dark from the spot he stood, hands carefully searching through his jacket pockets under threat of one of those distastefully human instruments known as  _knives_. It was being held against Nick’s throat, its sharp blade pressed with menace against human skin far too delicate. 

The surge of fury came from deep within him, sudden and fierce, poking the already-inflamed weavings of his grace.  _He didn’t stop to deliberate._ Steps took him across the empty street, one arm stretching outward— still yards between them— two fingers pointed toward the offensive waste of flesh. A very concise flick of said fingers and it sent the insignificant creature hurtling through the air to be thrown and painfully crushed into a faraway wall, rain seeming to pelt the sagging form, as if specifically targeting him for his wrongdoings. But Lucifer paid him no glance, instead continuing on the path to Nick, who appeared momentarily stunned, eyes turned toward the thrown criminal. His head of blonde was drenched, as was all but his jacketed torso— Lucifer would not doubt he was similarly soaked, no matter how swiftly this encounter took place.

“Why do you allow yourself to get into these situations?” was his greeting as he finally stopped a couple feet from the man. It got his attention, his blue eyes focusing on him. Lucifer noted his subtle, nervous swallow before he opened his mouth to speak. 

“I was only walking home. I didn’t invite myself to be mugged.”

Lucifer’s gaze flickered downward, noticing water vaguely crimson joining up with an army of other droplets trickling down the other’s neck. It was hard to ignore the sharp shake of  _failure_  that hit him, a peculiar response when it was obvious there was little fatal about it.  _But Nick had been harmed,_ still caught by that blade of foul intent. The fact he’d allowed such a slip — even if trivial — sat like poison in his thoughts. As powerful as he was, and still Nick was marked by the edge of a meager slice of metal. This feeling was heavily unpleasant.

Nick seemed to note where Lucifer’s eyes lay, for his fingers rose to his neck, gingerly pressing against the lightly seeping spot. There was a tiny wince and a poor attempt at smiling. “He got me, huh? Only stings a little.”

“It shouldn’t have happened,” Lucifer suddenly countered, eyes returning to meet Nick’s, stare dark, feeling naught but  _wrath_. But its focus wasn’t on the other. It had internalized, and was doing well with meddling with any rationalized reaction. He barely chose to touch, but a step closer and his hands rose, fingers coming to rest against the sides of Nick’s neck, the positioning almost as if to strangle, but his handling far too gentle —  _barely there_  — both his thumbs stroking over the nigh-invisible cut.

“Lucifer, it’s—“ Nick quietly began amongst another timid swallow, one easily felt beneath his fingers.

“Quiet,” Lucifer interrupted. “I’ll finish him after I tend to you.”

Nick’s throat jumped. “What? He’s not dead? Then you can’t..”

“I assumed you wouldn’t want to witness any more death, even if obvious filth. But this one’s deserving. None have come so..” Lucifer unknowingly hesitated. “..close. Not while you’ve been free of me.”

Was it surprise behind Nick’s eyes?  _Perhaps._  Surprise that Lucifer would make this consideration when it seemed that most of his actions held none. 

“Don’t kill anyone.”

“Of course you’d offer them such a scot-free escape, Nick,” came his frigid response. A chill beyond that of the continuous rain began trailing its way beneath Nick’s skin from the very tips of Lucifer’s fingers. Nick couldn’t resist a shudder, the combined cold almost too much. But he also felt the sting steadily easing, which was a welcome comfort. Comfort that he wished to extend to the angel before him, who — despite his shocking amount of tenderness — seemed to be functioning high on his contempt. Judging from his words, he would also dare to guess a fraction of  _guilt_ was stirring somewhere inside the being that Lucifer was.

“I don’t care if they wouldn’t have done the same,” Nick argued. _To see Lucifer kill.._

 _"You_  might not.” 

After these words, a silence seemed to fall. His fingers slid away from Nick’s neck, skin healed of the minor sliver.  _No, there could be no weakness of this kind. It was wrong of him to come. Yet_ — Lucifer’s hard stare turned in the direction of the collapsed human, eyes narrowing with bitter intention as he began to aim an arm. _Never again._

But the man’s obliteration was swiftly interrupted by a pair of cold, human hands catching hold of the sides of his face, pulling him into what was suddenly a pair of human lips pressing against his own.  _Shockingly warm and very wet_ , the rain not yet ceasing, droplets of it falling from drenched hair and damp eyelashes. And even for an interfering gesture, Nick’s hold of him was soft. 

Lucifer could only freeze in place, allowing lips to rest where they were, the warmth stemming from the other — _always so warm when close_  — seeming to soothe the fury that was there a mere second ago. It took another for him to realize he had nothing in sight. His eyes had closed and he’d leaned in closer, wishing to be reluctant in his relishing of Nick, but being led nowhere but further astray. The hand that had been ready for a vengeance came to rest at the man’s chin, fingers curling there as if to keep the other where he was. 

“You’re letting m—“ Nick started, already drawing back.

But there was a low and unusually curious murmur of ‘ _stop talking’_  before Lucifer was closing the distance again, lips pressing into Nick’s as if a part of him feared losing the heat of the other. Now that it had been so willingly given, he wished for it to never leave. No being had ever offered him this, a sense of companionship Nick never seemed to shy from, no matter if the  _Devil_ was on the receiving end.  _Lucifer wanted Nick to stay._

Suddenly there was a sharp intake of breath that ascended into a silence, stuck in a shock that wouldn’t let it go.

It happened quickly, far faster than he fathomed humanly possible.  _Impossible. How?_ Lucifer drew back to see the blade from before, held in the broken human’s hand, sunken into Nick’s side. 

Little could be done to prevent the ensuing rage, far more ferocious in its second coming, erupting from the core of him by cursory thought alone. There was no hesitation in how swiftly the vermin fell, dead without any question, soul cast down for a torture most foul. 

And yet Lucifer still cursed his inattentive consciousness,  _furious with himself_ , Nick in the process of falling to his knees. Lucifer caught the man before he got so far, holding him from beneath the arms as he weakly collapsed against his chest.  _I’m sorry_ , he wanted to say, the words resting on the very tip of his tongue, unable to make their way to the surface.  _I’m sorry for repeatedly failing you, powerless to save you from this mortal pain._

Lucifer lowered the both of them, inexplicably overtaken by a very human level of caution, unable to reach down to yank the blade free while ensuring Nick wouldn’t topple and collide with the concrete. But he did once the man was supported by the ground below, body still leaning against him, head over his shoulder, breathing uneven.  _Needlessly_   _hurting._  Nick tried to keep in a pained cry as the knife was pulled from him, one of Lucifer’s hands quick to cover the damage, blood flowing through his fingers, its flow disappearing in the rain.

_The reaction to heal was immediate._

_And so was his notice that there was none of it taking place. He called on it, just as he had to heal the man’s neck, but there was an emptiness_. His grace wouldn’t respond.  _Something was wrong._

“It’s okay,” he heard Nick say.

“No,” Lucifer found himself growling, tone heavy with anger and distress he couldn’t contain after being so abruptly provoked. He could feel Nick’s arms wrapping around him, lightly gripping the drenched fabric of his shirt. He pressed his hand harder to the wound, attempting to channel and sensing..  _nothing_.

"I feel like we’ve been here before.” Nick let out a broken breath of a chuckle.

Lucifer didn’t laugh. Desperation had him pressing a hand to Nick’s other side, prepared to take him to the care of his own kind now that it seemed his own healing had abandoned them. But they didn’t move. They remained beneath the onslaught of rain in this makeshift huddle, Lucifer already sensing the dimmer glow of Nick’s soul. _Why? Why could he not save the only one worth the care? Was he not allowed this?_

“Don’t be upset, L—Lucifer. W—Won’t I see you?” The cold seemed to have finally taken hold of Nick, causing the chilled stutter, the natural cold that spread with every gush of blood of little more help.

 _In Hell_ is what Lucifer assumed the man meant by his words, that or he was already losing sense. But no matter the meaning, he didn’t desire to hear this. Hell was no place for a being like Nick.  _The Devil would know._

From over his shoulder there was a shuddering sigh, Nick’s grip falling from his shirt. “Everything’s so cold… you’re cold,” Nick murmured. 

How strongly he felt a sudden helplessness, vast and unforgiving, a feeling he was far from fond of. He held onto the hope his grace would restore itself at the last moment. He kept still, holding Nick close.  _Hope. Foolish._

“You can’t save me.” The man’s voice was growing quiet. As if he were falling asleep. Lucifer felt nothing but cold now, warmth waned. “You were never meant to,” Nick continued as Lucifer felt a hand cover his, pushing his fingers away from the wound. 

_More was wrong here._

“I thought I was meant to live as I see fit,” Lucifer finally spoke, recalling words of Nick’s that were more familiar to him— more of that irritatingly thoughtful Nick he knew.

“You’re not here to save humanity, you’re here to kill us. So let me go, Lucifer.”

 _To hear these words escape Nick_ —they brought with them an unfamiliar sensation that could not be matched. Physical pain which coiled around the very essence of him, seeming to tear in him something quite hollow.

“Lucifer.” His name was uttered with persistence. He felt his other hand pushed away. “ _Lucifer._ ” Away he was shoved, contact lost.  _The man had been saving his strength for this? “Lucifer!”_

In that moment his eyes snapped open.

A hand rested on his shoulder, but it lifted when it was obvious he’d awoken. It took him a disoriented second— the mere feeling of disorientation confusing him further — until he gradually remembered where he was. Exactly where he’d been lying down before traveling.. elsewhere.  _Nick’s bedroom._

There was no stronger feeling than that of the relief that filled the hollow. Nick stood in the room with him. Not hurt, not sodden,  _not dying_.  _Should he curse his Father for the false vision?_  He suspected it being Him who cast him here, into the lowly ranks of humanity, into the necessities of sleep, into what had been such a cruel, vivid..

“It sounded like you were having a nightmare,” Nick spoke up, the silence apparently too much. The man was standing in the dark beside the bed, hair askew and eyes tired. 

“Was that it?” was all that he uttered as he pulled himself up to sit, trying to resist a sudden need to shiver, a remnant of the illusion. Another peculiar sensation of emptiness settled inside of him. He could recall every moment, and there was plenty he wished to cast aside. The bad.  _The_   _good_. It was with an irritating distress he wondered why he would dream of such..  _things_..

“You were tossing and turning,” Nick pointed out, “And talking in your sleep.”

“What did I say?” he questioned, guarded.  _How could he have been so oblivious? He hadn’t felt his former power for weeks now._ He ached at the thought.

“Well, all I caught when I came in to check on you..” Nick appeared uncertain, vaguely nervous. “..you were repeating ‘ _I can save you_.’ That and a lot of  _no_ ’s.”

“Since when have I required you to  _check_  on me?” 

“You’re the one who woke me up with your yelling.”

“I thought I was talking.” Lucifer’s stare kept steady on Nick, searching. He couldn’t see as he could before.

Nick shrugged, almost too exhausted to explain. “You were loud before you got quieter.”

“And you’re telling me that’s all you heard?”

Silence followed his skeptical inquiry. Lucifer could feel the  _human_  of what he now was imbedding itself further, unsavory sensations making themselves at home. An unbearable uneasiness seemed to curl in his stomach.The last he wanted was Nick knowing the torment of his nightmare _._

“It was your nightmare. I have no business.. I was just trying—“

“Tell me,” Lucifer’s demanding tone softened by the unwelcome unease.

Nick lifted his arms to cross over his chest, his head lowering to stare at the floor. “Might’ve been a lot of my name as well.”

Lucifer could only think to avert his own eyes, stare boring into the blankets as he tried not to let free far too heavy of a sigh. There was an unfamiliar rush of heat to both sides of his face.  _This was ridiculous._

“..Were you trying to save me?” Nick hesitantly asked.

“Does it truly matter if it wasn’t real?” Lucifer retorted.

“Why did you tell me to stop talking?”

Lucifer was growing slightly irritated with the questioning now. He glanced toward Nick with eyebrows narrowed, leery of Nick’s apparent penchant for eavesdropping.

“Excuse me?” He couldn’t help the inevitable sarcasm, despite his deepening flush, clearly preferring to keep away from the reasoning behind  _why that in particular had been said_. “Are you sure you weren’t standing there since the moment I fell asleep?” He tilted his head toward the rest of the bed Nick had given him to sleep in. “Do you need me to roll over and give you a space beside me?” 

Nick simply shrugged again. “Only curious.”

“You’re awfully nosy for someone who was said it wasn’t their business… what are you doing?” Nick had moved to sit on the edge of the bed— not even on the opposite side, but right beside where he sat. Then, as if he hadn’t registered his comment, Nick continued talking.

“Do you feel better seeing that I’m fine and don’t need saving?” The man was watching him closely, unsettlingly inquisitive tonight.

“You’ll never need saving,” he suddenly said— too late by the time he realized.

It added to the other’s curious expression. “How would you know?”

 _Well. This wasn’t the direction he had wished to head in_. He knew there were many ways he could respond, but none in which he wanted to face. Could the man not leave? Better yet, why didn’t he simply  _ask_  for Nick to leave? Lucifer crossed his arms, shoulders giving a small, almost defiant roll, choosing the route that disclosed the least amount of embarrassment. “Because I promise you’ll never come to harm while I’m here.”

There was a surprised lift of eyebrows from Nick, a faint smile. “You promise?”

“Do I seem like someone who would lie to you?” Lucifer’s stare narrowed, mildly accusatory.

“I didn’t know I meant that much to you.”

Lucifer chose then to fall silent, which of course prompted Nick to keep going— _should he have been surprised?_

“It’s okay. You don’t have to feel any obligation to protect me. It was only a nightmare. I doubt anything that you imagined will happen in real—“

There was no warning. No time to prepare for it. Nick was cut off by a sudden, soft brush of lips against his own. So brief that he wondered if he’d imagined it himself. “Stop talking,” Lucifer muttered, left to a silenced comfort that Nick’s warmth was _here, with him_. A comfort that was quite irrepressible, apparently. “Stay with me.”


End file.
